Empty

This isn't a good feeling. Empty is null. Empty is apathetic. Empty doesn't know passion, excitement or fear. Empty doesn't have hope or dreams, nor can it plan. Worse, when empty none of that matters. Empty is a wasteland. I wish it was just insomnia and the hour that had brought on this mood, but I've felt myself draining for awhile now. There's a relief in not having a constant hum of thoughts zapping through my head, but I'm so used to it that I do miss that constant rumble. I often don't realize that chasing the crooked tangents of my thoughts generates a spark throwing energy in me. Though it might make doing the mundane work in front of me seem boring and trivial, it keeps the light on in my eyes and enhances my sense of awareness.

What I need to remember, and this feels like grasping at straws now, is that empty can be good if I remain open. Empty can let me be refilled with fresh, new stuff. Empty is a bucket lowering into a well. Empty is the silence in which the voice of God/dess can resonate. So maybe what I ought to be doing now is making sure that I really am empty. I ought to look for the outmoded thoughts and attitudes that cling so tightly that they feel like they're part of me, when really they're kudzu that's taken over the landscape. I need to double check my behaviors and see if they're just the rote actions of habit that don't serve a constructive purpose.

This all feels so passive, both the emptiness and my efforts to reframe it. I'm tired of passivity. I'm tired of waiting. I want to know securely what it is I should be doing. I want to feel like I'm stepping confidently into a future that will be full.

Maybe at daybreak, that will come to me. Here, now, in my softly lit room, with darkness all around me, empty is all I can feel.

moods